Mutant Orphans in a Jaded World
by JoLou007
Summary: This is a short story using some of my OCs and the X-men universe. I've only ever seen the movies so it's not perfect. It's a 'how my OC arrives at the school' story. Please tell me what you think of the characters and story in general. I don't mind critiques. Thanks! Have fun! (FYI - no pairings)
1. Chapter 1

She returned from school, sneaking in through the back door like always, making sure the coast was clear before dashing upstairs to her room. There was no lock on the bedroom door, but she only had to prop a chair against the knob to solve that problem. She dropped her backpack down and grabbed her sketchbook from her desk. She had a new character idea for her story and some awesome clothes for them to wear. She crawled into the closet, leaving the door open a crack so she could listen for sounds outside. This was her sanctuary until morning.

It's a curious thing being a mutant. Favorable scientists called it evolution. The paranoid majority and unmutated populous called it a disease. Riffa wished that, if it was a disease, they'd just find a cure already. Maybe if they'd found a cure 10 years ago her parents wouldn't be dead. And she wouldn't be stuck in a foster home run by a maniac witch and inhabited by the most incompetent inbreeds around. It sucked.

As Riffa sketched her new character she pondered how in her imaginary worlds full of imaginary people, life was good. They went through problems, otherwise it wouldn't be realistic, but things always worked out in the end. The bad guys were caught and imprisoned, the good guys lived happily ever after. Riffa's worlds were under her benevolent control. Though reality was far from as kind.

Between kids at school and news stories online, Riffa knew that the X-men existed. A group of mutants self-tasked with protecting the world from other mutants that just wanted to watch society burn. She was a skeptic. Maybe they were controlled by the government. There couldn't possibly be mutants favored in a positive light.

Riffa wiggled the pencil she was holding in her left hand as she contemplated whether the boots she was drawing needed a buckle or not. The stump of her right forearm held her sketchbook steady. She wiped away eraser shavings and decided they didn't need buckles. They would be annoying to fasten all the time anyways. This girl was going to have the coolest wardrobe. Someday, Riffa hoped she would have all the clothes she could imagine. Maybe she could even make them!

"Riffa~where are you?"

She held motionless in the closet and listened past her thumping heart for the location of the sound. Her door rattled as the person tried getting in.

"Riffa did you block the door again? Open up~."

It was Thomas. Thomas enjoyed nothing more than making Riffa suffer. It was his favorite form of entertainment. Joining him were usually Marco and Arisa. They were all older than her. Riffa's current prediction was that they would die from a drug overdose on the streets some day, or in a fight; it changed depending on their habits. She heard muttered conversation from behind the bedroom door. Suddenly the chair went clattering across the floor. Marco used his mutation to repel the chair away - again. He must've got his skinny fingers under the door far enough to reach it. The door swung open and banged against the wall. Clomping stolen Nike clad feet trespassed into her space.

"Where is she?" Arisa asked. She heard books get shoved off of her bed. Someone kicked the chair further away. Another person dumped out her pens and pencils from their tin can container. Riffa waited in frozen fear for them to find her. She watched through a crack as Arisa walked up to the closet and put a hand on the knob.

"Where are you, you snot nosed brats?"

The bellow from downstairs made everyone in her room freeze. Arisa pulled her hand away from the knob and the tormentors quickly retreated. Only the sound of the foster mom could cause them to scatter like cockroaches in a beam of light. The only one worse than them was her. Riffa returned to her sketching. Dinner wouldn't be coming tonight. The kids didn't steal enough to peddle off to unsuspecting buyers yesterday. And momma needed her fix. Riffa just hoped she would get drunk and pass out quickly.

"Riffa! Get your butt down here!"

Never mind…

Riffa tucked her sketchbook away in a safe place and scurried downstairs. You didn't make the woman wait. She found her standing in the hallway, hands on her round hips and blue Crock covered foot tapping impatiently. Her heavily shadowed eyes flicked up at Riffa as she descended the stairs. Her frown creased her rapidly wrinkling face. Drugs and alcohol did that to a person. She waved a folded paper in Riffa's face.

"I got a letter from the school. Apparently you're failing math and gym. How do you even fail gym?" she squinted her eyes at Riffa then waved away the girl's reply before she could even make one. "I don't care. Just get your act together. Failing kids looks bad on me. You don't want me to look bad, do you?"

Riffa shook her head no. The woman didn't need her help to do that.

"Then get those grades up! If you don't, then I'm going to take every scrap of paper away from you. Yeah, no more doodling or scribbling for you! You understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Riffa ducked her head down and stared imaginary holes into the dingy cream colored carpeting.

"Good. Now get out of my sight," she sighed and walked into the living room, plopping onto the saggy couch and turning the tv on. Riffa hurried away to the security of her room. But inside she found an unwelcome sight.

"There you are!" Thomas grinned. He was holding her notebook with her most current story she was working on. Riffa looked down at her notebook then back up at Thomas' face. It betrayed nothing. She watched him carefully, then lunged for her notebook. Thomas put a hand on her shoulder and held the notebook high above them. "Hold it. We need to talk."

She pulled away and glared up at him. He wagged the notebook infront of her face and raised his eyebrows. She knew he could destroy it in an instant if he wanted to. She softened her look and crossed her arms across her chest, looking away from him.

"What do you want?"

"We don't get to eat tonight because someone hasn't been pulling their weight lately," he began. "So if you want any food to fill that belly of yours, I suggest you get out there and help us steal some merch. Understand?"

Riffa clenched her jaw and squeezed her hand around her right side. "I don't want to steal," she muttered.

"Do you want to eat?"

She made no reply.

"Come on, Riffa. Your power makes this so much easier. You'll starve if you don't," he argued. He stuck the notebook under her nose. "And it looks like you almost have this thing filled. Do you want it all to disappear in a puff? Because I can arrange that."

Riffa bit her lip. She hated stealing. It wasn't fair. To her or their victims. But the foster mom squandered the government money away on booze and drugs. There wasn't anything left for the six kids that lived at the foster home. Riffa thought about the younger kids, Gina and Henry. They were only in grade school. If she didn't do this for herself, she would do it for them.

"Fine. I'll help."

"Good," he tossed her notebook back on her bed. "Let's go."

Riffa pulled on a coat. It was going to be a late night, and the weather was turning toward fall. Arisa and Marco were waiting at the back door. Arisa in her red beanie and black bomber jacket. Marco in a dark green hoodie with his stolen headphones around his neck. They helped muffle the street noise. Thomas led the way.

"Let's try the pawn shop downtown."

They got on the bus from the stop down the block and rode the 12 stops to downtown. Arisa told the computer with a touch that they'd already paid while Riffa kept the driver distracted as the others got on. After getting off, it began to drizzle. Riffa pulled up her hood and stuffed her hand into her jacket. A couple blocks down, they found the pawnshop. Thomas scoped it out while the other three stood around the alley corner. Riffa noticed a cafe across the street, its warm light spilling out onto the darkening sidewalk. A couple with their young daughter were enjoying steaming drinks and sweet pastries. The parents laughed at something the girl said. She felt a familiar pang of longing.

Thomas returned. "The coast is clear. Riffa, you're up."

She took a breath to steady her nerves and cautiously walked into the shop. The overweight man behind the counter looked up when the bell jingled at her entrance. Riffa gave him a meek look.

"What do you want, kid?" he asked gruffly. He had been counting cash and quickly shoved the register shut. He chomped on some gum that had long ago lost its flavor. He was trying to quit smoking. It made him crabby.

"Um, I was wondering if you had any pearl earrings. I'm looking for a gift for my mom." That was the plan. Get him to grab something in his display case in front of him and then strike.

He sighed and slid open the case door. Putting one hand on the counter to steady himself, he ducked down to grab an option for her. Riffa brought out her stump. Her eyes flashed a reddish pink and a hand made of energy formed over the stump. She clamped onto the man's wrist. He froze in place, so long as she maintained contact. The others came in quickly after she did this.

"Just grab a couple of things. We don't want him to notice right away. Only stuff we can sell. Don't get greedy," Thomas instructed the group. He grabbed a lock and melted it off. Inside the glass case was a signed baseball card. Easy to hide in a pocket. Arisa grabbed a Rolex, Marco had listened to it and it seemed to be functioning properly. "Alright. Let's go."

He turned to leave. Once they were out, Riffa would release her victim and scurry away deciding she didn't want what he had to offer. But before Thomas could get to the door, a man walked in. Not just the average Joe. It was Detective Johnson, the very man that had been trying to nab them for months.

"What's going on here?" he demanded. It didn't take him long to recognize Thomas. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Everyone, stay where you are. You are in big trouble."

"Scatter!" Thomas bellowed.

Thomas shoved past the detective, who was suddenly shocked by a burn on his leg. Marco and Arisa ran out the back and into the alley. Riffa released her captive and dashed past the limping detective. She heard him call for backup on the radio before she was out of earshot. They would all be finding their own way home tonight.

Riffa ran several blocks before she stopped to learn where she was. She looked at the nearest corner street sign and saw that she was a good 45 minute walk away from the foster home. By now it had begun to rain steadily. She would need to get back in a roundabout way to avoid possible patrols.

Ten minutes into her journey, she was walking along a quiet street full of now closed businesses. Yoga studios, bakeries, finance offices, the usual middle class stuff. She kicked a can she'd found a block back as she walked along. She wasn't entirely eager to get back. Suddenly headlights illuminated her back and cast her shadow before her. She heard the chugging of a older engine and looked back to see an older truck approach. But instead of driving past her, it slowed to a stop beside her. Riffa kept her head down and glanced over at the truck. A man hand rolled the passenger window down.

"Hey, kid. You need a ride?" he asked gruffly, like he didn't really want to offer, but some newfound better nature forced him to. He was a scruffy guy with intense muscles. He looked rough. And his eyes looked both kind and sad. "Look, I'm not a creep. You can walk in the rain if you want. Just offering," he sat back in his seat.

Riffa wasn't nervous. If she needed to, she'd just freeze the truck and get ready to run.

"Fine," she said and put a hand on the metal handle. Before opening the door, she looked up at the man. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. What's your name?"

"Logan."

"Now you're not a stranger," she opened the door and jumped in. After slamming the door shut and pulling the buckle across her, Logan pulled away from the curb and carried on with his drive. This was good. She wouldn't be picked up by a patrol this way.

"What's your name?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, maybe I don't want to give a ride to a stranger," he countered, using her earlier reasoning against her.

"Fine. It's Riffa," she grumbled.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"You can drop me off at the corner of Oak and Clayton."

"Sure thing."

They rode on in silence, the sounds of the wipers and falling rain filling the absence of conversation. At least it would only take ten minutes to get there. Riffa glanced over at the man. He looked rough, like he should be full of scars from being in a gang or something, but there wasn't a scratch on him. Not even a tattoo. His hairy sideburns extended down his face almost to his chin. And his hair came out to odd points from his head.

"Are you a lumberjack, or something?" Riffa asked in a mumble.

"Uh, no."

"You're just all muscle-y and hairy. Like a lumberjack. You just need a flannel shirt."

"I'll keep that in mind," he chuckled. "But I don't typically wear flannel."

Riffa put her right elbow on the arm rest and rest her head on her stump, gazing grumpily out the window. "I'm not giving out fashion advice."

Logan took note of her stump but chose to ignore it. Riffa could always tell when people did that. They tended to ask a personal question to curb their curiosity and get to the subject of her missing hand in a roundabout way.

"So, your parents let you roam outside at night in the rain?"

"No parents. No one to stop me from _roaming_," she mocked his choice of verb.

"Ah." But he didn't seem uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed to relax more, resting an elbow on the window ledge and driving with his right hand. He turned toward the corner she directed him to. "You know, I work at a school that has a lot of kids living there without parents."

"A boarding school?" Riffa guessed.

"Yep. But it's special."

"Like for "special" kids?" she air quoted the word special.

"Not like that. They're mutant kids."

He let that hang in the air. Riffa was struck by this revelation. A school for mutant kids, some of them orphans. And this rough guy worked there. A trap. Definitely a trap. Did he suspect she was a mutant? Or just disadvantaged? She decided to turn the conversation on him.

"Are you a mutant?"

Logan looked over at her in mild surprise then answered with a sigh, "Yeah."

"What can you do?"

"Make knives that come out of my hands."

Riffa glanced over at his hands with new interest. Knives that came out if his hands? That sounded dangerous. And yet he worked at a school for mutants. Was it a militia school?

"That sounds pretty dangerous. Like, what if you were scratching your stomach and erk!" she acted out scratching her stomach and then getting stabbed in the abdomen, complete with her tongue lolling out to the side and sounds of agony. Logan chuckled at her show.

"Well, my ability to heal almost instantly would help with that."

"Really?" This old guy was getting cooler and cooler by the minute. She looked at her stumped right arm with wonder. What if she had a healing power? Logan noticed this train of thought.

"What happened to your hand anyways?"

But they had reached her corner. Logan pulled over and Riffa put a hand on the door handle ready to dash out. She didn't feel like talking about herself.

"Hey, kid, wait. Mutant or not, here's the number for the school. If you find yourself in a bad situation, we'll help you out."

Riffa took her hand off the handle and snatched the card from him. She glanced at the name and number. 'Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted' it read. She stuffed the card in her pocket and jumped out of the truck.

"Thanks," she said and shut the door with a thud. Logan drove away and she didn't look back.

Back at the foster home, only Thomas had returned. She was sure he'd ran the entire way home. He hated getting wet. It took another hour for Arisa and Marco to come trudging in, soaked to the bone. In the meantime, Kerri had a couple of friends over. They brought thumping music and hard drugs. Riffa stayed far away. Thomas stayed near the younger kids' room. He was always protective over them when Kerri had her friends over. Just in case one of them wandered upstairs. By the time the other two made it home, the company was passed out in the living room.

"What took you guys so long?" Thomas hissed in the hallway. Riffa had been sitting on her bed reading and got up after hearing them talking. She walked up to the doorway and listened cautiously.

"The cops were everywhere, man. And it was raining. We hid for cover at a playground. You wouldn't want this getting wet," Marco dangled the Rolex in the air with a grin. Thomas snatched the watch from him.

"Good job. I've got my card, too. We'll be eating good for weeks!" The three of them rushed off to Thomas' room to hang out. When they passed, Riffa noticed a dark spot on Marco's neck. Apparently he and Arisa did more than just hiding at the playground. Riffa quietly closed her door and replaced the chair in front of the knob. She plopped down on her bed and pulled out the business card in her pocket. She made the silver metallic letters and numbers shine in the dim light of her lamp, then shoved the card under her mattress and returned to reading her book. But she couldn't help but wonder at the back of her mind what a school for mutants would be like. Would it be better, or worse?


	2. Chapter 2 - I've Got a Plan

The next day, Riffa tiptoed past the slumbering adults and headed outside to the bus stop a couple blocks away. As she waited for the yellow school bus to arrive, her eyelids hung heavy, she still being sleepy from the late night escapade. She let her eyes close and listened to the dead leaves swirl around in the cool breeze crackling and crunching as they skipped about. Thomas, Marco, and Arisa had already left. The older kids took a different bus. For some reason, the school she attended separated freshmen from the upperclassmen for transport. Soon she heard the lumbering diesel vehicle pull onto the street. It came to a stop with a whine and a hiss and she boarded the bus with a few of her other classmates. She claimed her usual seat near the back on the passenger side. She stuffed her hand in her jacket pocket and settled in for the 30 minute ride to school. No one on the bus bothered her. No one knew she was a mutant.

At school, Riffa met with no one. Once people found out she was an orphan, well, she could never make any lasting friendships. Add to that missing a hand under "mysterious circumstances" (At least, in their opinion. Riffa let them think what they wanted,) and no one cared to get close to her. She didn't mind. She found many of them to be annoying anyways. At least in art class some of her classmates would talk to her and compliment her on her work. She felt a sense of camaraderie there. She just had to wait until the second to last class of the day to enjoy the company and solace. It was going to be hard enough making it through the first class of the day - Math.

She retrieved her books for the morning and reluctantly entered period one. Seats were assigned, so she sat at her usual desk with her assigned group for the next few weeks. Her teacher regularly changed things up. She had placed Riffa in a group that had one other struggling student and two advanced students. It was the teacher's hope that the two advanced students would help the struggling ones. But they were just impatient. And they couldn't explain how a plug went into a socket if they had to; it was too much of a bother. So Riffa did her best to not annoy them.

She would say she was okay at math. The problem (heh, math pun) was that it was the first class of the day. Many nights she stayed up late helping with heists or listening to the thudding music from the living room. She just couldn't focus. It took at least until third period to wake up. But they were only a month into the school year. Things could change.

Her teacher, Ms Dorner, stood at the board explaining a new set of equations to find the value of x or y in different situations when Riffa felt her head nod forward. She caught herself and shook the sleepiness off. It had been hard to fall asleep after such a charged evening. She decided to doodle to keep her semi focused. But soon she got lost in the world she was creating, her wandering thoughts being broken by a worksheet sliding over her notebook.

"No drawing in class, Riffa. Unless you're making a comic about solving math problems."

The class snickered at the scolding. Riffa kept her eyes on her worksheet. It contained problems to practice the new equations they were learning. She sighed and did her best.

Gym followed Math class. Since she currently had a failing grade in the class, and since Kerri told her she had to bring her grade up, she decided to actually attend. But she wouldn't be changing into gym clothes. She drew the line there. When she shuffled into class, her head ducked down but eyes on alert, her teacher rose an eyebrow at her entrance. Riffa acknowledged woman and took a seat on the bleachers. Soon everyone filed out of the locker rooms, some starting to play basketball, others chatting in groups by the bleachers.

"Alright everyone! Gather 'round. Chop chop."

The class gathered in a loose clump near the teacher. Some boys jostled each other, poking fun about something.

"Today we're playing five on five basketball games. I'll assign the teams so things are a little more fair."

Once the teams were organised, the teacher walked up to Riffa.

"No uniform? Did you forget yours?"

"No."

"If you want to participate tomorrow, I insist you wear your uniform."

"My clothes won't impede my participation," Riffa argued.

"I don't care. Those are the rules. If I make a concession for you, then others will want the same treatment."

Riffa looked down with a frown on her face. Maybe she'd fail the class anyways.

The rest of the day was more or less uneventful. She was assigned a paper to write in English. They did memorization work on the periodic table of elements in Physical Science. Finally she attended her calm in the storm - art class, specifically, painting and drawing.

In art, they were working on developing the method of gesture drawings, a technique that added fluidity and movement to a drawing by emphasizing the lines of a subject over the details. Her classmates took turns posing and the sketchers had 30 seconds to capture the pose with their quick, vague charcoal lines. Five minutes before the end of class, they added their works into their portfolios. The teacher then clapped her hands, shaking the metal bangles on her wrists, and arrested everyone's attention.

"Alright. Good job today, students! Before you go, I have an announcement. In six weeks we will participate in an art show. We will pick the medium by random. But first, I need suggestions; pertaining to Drawing and Painting of course."

She wrote down the shouted offerings of her class. Riffa secretly hoped for a charcoal drawing. She then put the pieces of paper in a prop hat and shook them in a jumble. "Alright, Hannah, pick our medium."

The girl with hair the color of a sugar maple leaf in fall plunged her hand into the hat and rifled around for just the right choice. She plucked the white paper out and opened it with bright eyes.

"Ink!" she exclaimed.

"It's decided then, compose a piece in ink. That is all the criteria I give you. You have six weeks to complete your piece, in addition to any minor assignments I give you." The bell then rang and the class filtered out with excited babble.

Finally, after one last class, Riffa was on her way home. Her feeling of safety and contentedness fading away with each passing block and being replaced with a gnawing pain in her stomach. School may have had its drawbacks, but its predictability and order were preferable to the chaos of the foster home. Soon she departed at her stop and dragged her feet as she made her way back to the foster home. On her block, before passing by an overgrown juniper shrub, a familiar young man stepped out in front of her. Riffa halted and watched the newcomer warily.

"Gerrin, what are _you_ doing here?"

"I can visit home, can't I?" he grinned, falling in step with her and walking the rest of the way together. "So, how is my little sister doing?" he asked elbowing her side.

He always called her his sister, ever since she had come to the foster home at 10 years old. _All_ the younger siblings were brother and sister. "I'm fine."

"And school? You're a freshman now! High school. They grow up so fast," he pretended to wipe a tear away.

"Don't be so weird," she grumbled. Gerrin laughed and patted her head. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"Hmm, I'm here to see Kerri."

Riffa pondered this. It didn't escape her notice that after Gerrin turned 18, he left the foster home and joined a gang of young adults he'd associated with in the years leading up to his release from the system. She also knew they were mutants and mutant sympathizers. And they did several illegal things. Gerrin was a good guy, but he made bad choices. Meeting with Kerri certainly had a bad ring to it. He expounded no further on the meeting. They entered the house and parted ways.

In her room, Riffa worked on her homework. She heard footsteps ascending the stairs and soon Arisa was standing in her doorway.

"Hey, did you see Gerrin is here?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"He looks so much more mature and grown up. I wonder what he's been up to."

"Nothing good, I'm sure," Riffa said with an edge of bitterness.

"What is good, Riffa? There's only survival. And some of us have the guts to make the hard decisions to survive," Arisa snipped.

"Or you could decide to do something good with your life. Something that benefits society instead of stealing from others and harming yourself with drugs, which is all Kerri does and I'm sure what Gerrin does, too."

"You think you're so righteous! Grow up, Riffa! The world isn't as fair as you think it is." At that she left with a huff. Riffa glared at the empty doorway then returned to her work with tense concentration.

'I know it's not fair. But that doesn't mean I need to add to it.'

But her heated encounter with Arisa was far from over. Kerri soon bellowed from downstairs. "Brats! Get down here!"

The four teenagers and two young ones stood in the living room. Kerri lounged on the couch and Gerrin stood by the unused fireplace.

"Gerrin has a proposition for us. It can make us very rich," Kerri began, a greedy smile spreading across her face. Gerrin hopped in to explain the rest.

"My gang is planning a demonstration to show we are not to be messed with. We want to run this city and bring some of the unsavory elements under our control. It will make things better for people like us, and help out the little man, so to speak. And so, I need use of your expertise." He then outlined what his gang planned to do. The current ruling gang in the city had a nightclub they ran where the leader and his top brass frequented to drink and relax, as well as do business. Lots of money exchanged hands at that nightclub. But that money was unfairly taken from the poor, hard working people as a charge for their safety. Gerrin wanted to end this tyranny and enact a new form of protection that put no strain on the neighbors he served. It seemed noble.

But at the same time, he wanted to make sure the local authorities knew his intention and firm stand to do this. He suspected some of them were in the gang's pockets. He planned to make the known dirty cops pay for their crimes. He wouldn't say how.

"I've known many of you for several years. I know what you can do and how you feel about these problems. I know you want to help. Join me and we will succeed. When you graduate high school, you are guaranteed a place with the family. What do you say?" he looked at them with serious expectancy, his arms folded behind his back.

Riffa had to admit he presented a convincing plea. She could see the logic behind his motivation. And she was well aware of the constrains the local gang put on the community, something the authorities were slow to contain, almost as if they didn't want to. But he was putting himself up against some powerful people. It gave her trepidation to involve herself in something so big. But _Thomas_ was quick to agree (of course).

"I'll help. I'd be happy to melt a few locks, or limbs, to pass along the message." His hands glowed an orange red in eager anticipation.

"If I can help, I'd like to," Marco said with a shrug.

"Of course," Gerrin said with an enthusiastic nod. "We could definitely use your help, Marco."

"Fine. I'll join you. I'd rather have something to go to after the waste of time school is over," Arisa said.

"Thank you, Arisa. I was hoping you would say yes," Gerrin said with a wink. Marco caught that gesture and leveled a glare at him. Gerrin ignored this and looked over at Riffa. "What about you, little sis? Will you help?"

What a loaded question. Of course she wanted to help, but in a totally safe and legal way. There were things she'd do to put food in her belly. But social revolution? That was a bit much. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Arisa rolled her eyes at Riffa's long pause.

"She won't do it. She thinks she's a goody two shoes who's going to make it in this world with her art and stories. Her head is the clouds. You don't want her." Arisa's bitter remarks caused Riffa to blush in embarrassment. Kerri added further flavor to the chastening.

"She's always been a know-it-all, thinking her way is best. Well, I say anyone that doesn't help doesn't deserve to eat," she said, drawing an ultimatum.

"Do you expect Gina and Henry to starve?" Riffa countered, calling her bluff.

"No, 'cause they're going to help out, too. You're never too young to fight for a cause!" Kerri insisted. Riffa was appalled at this. She looked at Gerrin as if to say, '_Do you agree?_' He shrugged.

"We'll take anybody, even Gina and Henry. What do you think, kids?"

"Yeah! I want to blow something up!" Henry said excitedly.

"That's the spirit," Gerrin praised, ruffling Henry's fluffy hair. Gina quietly added her acceptance to volunteer. Riffa was standing as the odd one out. It went against what principles she had, but she couldn't exist on the streets by herself. She would do it, if only to watch out for the younger ones.

"Fine," Riffa said bitterly. "I'll help you." She knew with a sinking feeling she would regret it.

Up in her room, she gazed at the business card for probably the 10th time since she received it. Earlier, Gerrin had returned to his home, with promise of coming back once plans were set in stone and he would give them their assignments. It was risky, he said, but it was for a noble cause. And no noble cause was realized without risk.

She thought about what it must be like at that school for mutants. Did they have to join rebellions just for some food on the table? She figured, no. What would that Logan guy think if he found out she had powers? Did he suspect it all along? Or did he just see a wayward teen and hoped to help? It interested her that he was a mutant with scary, deadly powers, but he found a way to benefit the people around him. Riffa always thought that with destructive powers, there was no way to use them for good. Her's weren't particularly destructive, but they were invasive. She wasn't sure how they could be particularly beneficial.

She slid the card back under the mattress and turned onto her side. Gazing out into her small room, she contemplated her increasingly complicated life; and also what she would draw for the art show.

A week later, Gerrin returned with finalized plans. They needed to accomplish two goals: Cripple the gang by stealing the majority of their goods and money. And rat out the dirty cops, with the hope of pinning the robbery of the gang on the dirty cops, as if it were a raid. The gang would be out of commission and the cops would stay out their way - by hopefully being dead at the hands of the gang. To accomplish these goals, they needed supplies. Gerrin's group would do the majority of the grunt work, but the foster kids would be needed for their expertise.

As per Gerrin's plan, they needed evidence to plant at the raid to incriminate the cops. A badge, name tag, piece of their clothing with their name on it - identity. And that's where Riffa came in. All she needed to do was get close to the cop in question and freeze them. Another person would take what they could grab and the two would be on their way. In order to come to terms with the plan, Riffa told herself the cop was getting what they deserved by aiding in cheating the people they were meant to serve and protect.

Prior to this, after weeks of surveillance, Gerrin and his gang were able to ID all the dirty cops. He finally gave Riffa the list and pictures and told her to get to work. She had five days to get to all of them. He assigned Gina to help her. She could use her ability to turn into a bird and be a lookout, or swoop in and grab what was needed.

Thomas, Marco, and Arisa would train with Gerrin's gang for both of the raids. It needed to be quick and seamless or it would be doomed to failure.

The next day, Riffa located her first target, Officer Cho. He walked out of the coffee shop with a disposable cup of something steaming and caffeinated. Riffa chose her moment to strike and came out from her hiding spot behind his car, sneaking up behind him. But he noticed her approaching in the side mirror. She saw him stiffen up and prepare to confront her. Hey, she was learning. Sneaking up on people didn't come natural to most.

She reached out her hand before he could turn around and froze him in place. She snatched his badge, then hesitated on what to do next. People she froze typically returned what they had been doing immediately after she let go, particularly because they never knew they'd been frozen. Gina must've noticed her hesitance and flew down to land on the roof of the patrol car. She cocked her head and looked at her with beady, black eyes and let out a clipped chirp.

"Humanize near that alley and scream the moment I let go," Riffa ordered her.

Gina flew away and into the alley. Now in human form, she poked her head around the corner of the cafe and gave Riffa a nod. Riffa let go. Before the man could turn further around he whipped his head toward the piercing scream coming from ahead of him. He plopped his cup on the roof of his car and ran to investigate. Riffa bolted in the opposite direction.

"What is it, dear? What's wrong?" he asked Gina, kneeling down before her.

"I saw a big rat!" she whimpered.

"Oh, I thought you were in trouble. Rats won't hurt you, dear. Please don't scream like that unless you are in trouble, okay?"

Gina nodded and skipped away with a content grin on her face. Officer Cho shook his head, then turned back to look at his car. He scanned the area, remembering he'd seen a girl earlier, but didn't see anyone now. He shrugged, grabbed his coffee, and got into his car, driving down the street to catch traffic violators in the act.

Riffa got better with the other two. They never saw or heard her coming. Soon one name tag was gone; another, their hat missing from the passenger seat. She brought her bounty to Gerrin when he came to retrieve it at the deadline.

"Great job, you two! You're a good team."

Riffa had to agree. She looked over at the girl and gave her a broad smile that Gina returned with a chuckle. She just wished they could use their skills for something more...beneficial.

"How's the training going?" Riffa asked.

"Good. We've almost got it to perfection. And it _needs_ to be. One mistake could unravel the entire plan."

Riffa nodded, a tightening sensation forming in her stomach. They were about to do something big, something dangerous. She couldn't help but worry about the outcome. Gerrin seemed worried, too. He didn't carry his usual breezy attitude and looked around as if on constant alert. After discussing a few things with Kerri, he left.

And then the night of attack arrived.


	3. Chapter 3 - Who you gonna call?

Riffa only confirmed to herself that things would surely go wrong when she saw Gerrin and his gang with guns tucked safely into holsters and waist bands. She didn't know they would employ the use of deadly force.

It's for intimidation, Gerrin had assured her. And in case the gang fought back. But Riffa felt it was a bad decision. Once you have access to a weapon, you are more apt to use it when, if you didn't have it, you would have found another way and still succeeded.

Thomas grouped with Marco and a kid named Paul to raid the warehouse. Riffa, Arisa, and a tall girl named Molly were tasked with distracting key members of the gang, by any means necessary. Gerrin and two of his friends would waltz right into the nightclub and steal the stash of money in the back office. The rest of the members served as get-away drivers and rooftop back up. At 9 o'clock sharp, they put their plan into motion.

Riffa sauntered in with the girls, pausing at the entryway to take in the scene. Molly had given her a short dress and helped her put on makeup. She looked like a completely different person. Riffa stared at the person staring back at her from the mirror with wonder and some discomfort. At least she was disguised. They had been given false IDs procured by Gerrin. Having got their bearings, they casually made their way through the crowded bar, the pounding music and bouncing lights confusing Riffa's senses. Arisa leaned in to talk into her ear.

"I see the boss," she pointed over to a booth near the back, "I'm going to go over to chat him up. You take the bodyguard."

Riffa eyed the large man as they neared. She also saw Molly break away and head for the guard by the door that lead to the stash of thousand of dollars. She had the allure to really break down _his_ defenses. They were almost at the round booth that sat the most dangerous man in the city. He was younger than Riffa thought he would be, probably in his mid thirties. He only had one woman hanging on his shoulder, which lead to their favor. Arisa put her plan into action.

She made eye contact. Once he looked back she sent him a flirty smile. He returned it. So far so good. She stopped at the booth.

"Do I know you?" she asked. She put a hand on her hip and puffed her chest out as she gazed down at him with an expectant look.

"No, I'd remember if we met," he returned, his arm draped casually over the top of the booth behind him and his other hand holding amber alcohol of some kind in a short, round glass.

"You sure your name's not Mark?" she pressed, inching closer.

"Nope." He had a twinkle in his eye.

"Aw, too bad," Arisa pouted, looking down and fiddling with the lines on the table. "He was a good kisser. I was hoping you were him." She kept her chin down, but flicked her eyes up at the gang leader. He took the bait.

"Well, I've been told I'm not too bad myself."

"Oh, really?"

He turned to the girl on his right. "Jenna, thank you for your company. I think I've taken up enough of your time. I'm sure some other lonely man would enjoy a treat like you."

The woman stroked his jawbone and smiled at him patronizingly. "I understand, sweet cheeks. See you around." The escort then scooted out and left, but not before giving Arisa a pitying look, as if to say, 'You don't know what you're getting yourself into, little girl.'

The leader returned his attention to Arisa. "I didn't catch your name. I'm Roberto Avarra."

"Arisa," she replied, sliding into the booth beside Roberto. Having been behind Arisa for the most part, Riffa came into view. Roberto noticed her with a touch of intrigue. His eyes whisked over her body. Riffa kept her stump hidden behind her back.

"And who's your friend?" he asked.

Riffa took charge of her own introduction. She just hoped her voice wouldn't betray her fear. "My name is Riffa. I'm her wing...uh, woman. But she seems to be doing fine on her own." she jabbed a thumb over at the bodyguard. "But he looks like he could use some company. He looks bored."

Roberto laughed, looking over at his guard. "He's supposed to not be having any fun or...distractions. But I suppose he could take a quick break. Go ahead, Antonio. Have a chat with the young woman."

Riffa was sure he would do anything his boss told him to, but she wanted to get the bodyguard relaxed. She held her hand up. "Hey, only if he wants to," she said with a smile and a shrug. Antonio responded by walking up to her and offering her a thick forearm to grasp.

"I do," he said in a deep tone with a subtle wink.

"Go on, get the lady a drink. My treat."

Antonio lead Riffa away, leaving his boss to get to know his new lady friend. Riffa glanced over at Molly and was surprised to see that she had made ample progress on her mark. She glanced at her phone and saw that it was time for Gerrin to make his entrance. The unlikely pair stood at the bar, and Riffa looked to the door just in time to see a dapper Gerrin and two of his crew saunter into the club. They paused to take in the scene and make contact with the girls. But only a second later, they made their way inside.

Antonio ordered Riffa a gin and tonic. He got a scotch for himself. They made idle chit chat about their companions' wild antics, what it was like to work as a bodyguard, and anything that wasn't too personal. Riffa couldn't wait to get away from him.

She sipped her drink slowly, knowing full well that she had absolutely no tolerance. By now, Gerrin was almost at the door to the back room. Antonio had been saying something about working out and needing to relax some more when she felt a hand on her thigh. He stomach lurched at the intimate touch. She plastered a smile on her face and pretended to be interested, but her thoughts were far from the moment. Suddenly a man walked up the pair.

"Hey, Antonio. Sorry to interrupt. Is your boss available?"

Riffa look in perrifferals over at the man. He looked slightly familiar, but she couldn't place him. He had a three day shadow that seemed intentional and a grumpy expression. A mole sat beside his left eye. Antonio craned his neck to look over at his boss.

"He's just met a new friend."

"I'll be cordial," the man grumbled, clearly not wanting to be turned away.

"Fine. But make it quick."

He left them. Antonio returned to her bum. "Now, where were we?"

"Something about muscles?" Riffa guessed. But just then she looked past him and made eye contact with another man sitting at the bar. He was staring at her such intense interest, it reminded her of a cat she'd seen stalking a bird, it's gaze unflinching. Her eyes widened once she recognised who he was. She ducked her head and tried to hide behind the bulky bodyguard. But he'd recognised her also. Soon he was standing by the pair.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Detective Johnson scolded.

Antonio frowned at the newcomer. "Can I help you?" he asked in a warning tone.

"Yeah, how about not serving alcohol to a minor," he snipped back. He grabbed Riffa's wrist. "Your leaving, now. Say goodbye to your new friend."

Riffa gave Antonio an apologetic smile. He simply frowned down at her. Then he glanced over at his boss as if guessing Arisa was under age also. But it was out of Riffa's control as she was dragged out of the club by the zealous detective. As they made their way through the crowd, Riffa felt her phone buzz in her hand. She glanced down at the text and nearly threw up.

"ABORT! MISSION BLOWN!"

She gave a panicked glance back at her companions at the back of the club. Gerrin was at the door and walking through. It was too late. They'd just exited the club when shots rang out into the night air.

After that, it was chaos. Detective Johnson shoved Riffa into the back seat of his unmarked cop car and got on the radio calling in the alert. People began screaming and fleeing out the doors. He slammed the door and locked the car. Riffa was trapped. She heard several more shots that made her flinch each time. She was relieved to see Molly escape with the crowd, then another of Gerrin's partners. But no Arisa or Gerrin. The police arrived within minutes and stormed the business. Gerrin's other partner and another man Riffa didn't recognise were lead out in handcuffs. Soon, Crime Scene Investigation arrived and Riffa feared the worst. Suddenly, in a lull, she saw Gerrin sneak out from around the back. She could tell he was limping as he scurried away down the sidewalk, glancing behind him as he went. But he didn't get far. A dark car cut him off down the block and he was pulled inside the back seat in the blink of an eye. Finally, over an hour after he'd ushered her out, Detective Johnson returned to the car.

He sat down in the front seat with a tired sigh. He started when he saw her move in the back seat, having forgotten all about her. He turned the car on and backed out. "Let's go to the precinct. God it's been a night."

They rode the way in tense silence.

At the police station, Riffa was handed over to an officer who took her into an interrogation room and left her there, saying the detective would return to talk to her. Riffa stared at him wide eyed, both from the events of the night and the fact that she recognised him. He was Officer Cho, the man who she took the badge from. He looked back at her a bit longer than necessary with a creased eyebrows, then shut the door behind him. Riffa maintained possession of her cell phone and checked for a message. There was one from Marco.

"Riffa! Need your help! Gerrin and Thomas have been taken. As well as Gina and Henry. They were in our getaway car. Please help!"

Riffa choked back a cry of agony. Not Gina and Henry. They were just kids! What would those criminals do with them? She hated to wonder. She felt like the weight of the world rest upon her shoulders, and it was far bigger a burden than she could handle. She began to shake and sob. But then a glimmer of hope emerged from an idea. Maybe she wasn't on her own.

She'd long memorized the number. She shakily dialed and took advantage of having her phone. She put the phone up to her ear and listened to the ringing. Once, twice. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping with all her might that someone would pick up. After the third ring she heard a click.

"Professor Xavier's school for the gifted. This is Scott. What can I do for you?" the man said in a tired voice.

"Is someone named...," she paused realizing she'd never gotten his last name, "...Logan there. I'm sorry. I know it's late. But it's kind of an emergency. He gave me this number to call if I ever needed help."

"Hang on. I'll get him."

She heard the phone get set down on a table. A minute later a rough voice rumbled through the line.

"Who is this?" Logan asked.

"It's Riffa. The girl you gave a ride a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh. I remember you. Scott said it's an emergency. What's wrong?" he asked the last question in a serious tone, as if he came across trouble frequently enough to know what to do.

"I'm in big trouble," her voice wavered and she took a deep breath. "I think someone is going to try to kill me and my friends."

"Where are you?" he sounded like he was walking fast.

"I'm at the police station on 15th."

"You're safe there. Stay there until I get there."

"I don't think I am though." Her voice was small as shrugged her shoulders up and squeezed her arms in to cradle herself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. "It's too much to explain, but there's a dirty cop. And I think he recognized me. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm so scared. I think one of my friends is already dead."

"We'll get there as soon as we can. Stay as long as _you_ can."

Suddenly the knob of the door squeaked as it was turned.

"I've got to go!" Riffa said hurriedly and ended the call, hiding her phone on her lap. But it wasn't Officer Cho who walked through the door. It was another man. A man she'd just seen hours earlier. They'd missed a dirty cop.

"I'm Detective Monroe. Due to what happened tonight, we're going to release you with a stern warning. Don't drink under-aged again, got it?"

Riffa stared dumbly up at him. She nodded her head as the man impatiently held the door open for her to leave. She walked passed him, her face turned down, hoping he didn't recognize her. He followed behind her as she made the short walk back to the front entrance. As they walked, the detective leaned toward her right ear and whispered words that chilled her to the bone.

"I hope you weren't friends with that asian chick, cause she's got a bullet in her head."

Riffa felt her stomach clench. She made it to the lobby and saw Officer Cho standing idly by the front desk. He glanced over at the pair from his peripheral. He and Detective Monroe were the only ones at the front. Riffa felt like she was walking into a trap. The darkness of the city at midnight lay beyond the double doors. Once she went through those doors, she was fair game. She stopped short.

"Um, are you just going to send a buzzed minor out in the middle of the night without any way to get home?" she asked shakily, trying to buy herself some time. She watched with dismay as a dark car pulled up across the street and sat idling.

"Looks like your ride is here," Detective Monroe said with a ghost of a smirk. Riffa turned and looked at him with a horrified expression. He was knowingly sending her into the clutches of the gang and probably to her death, just to tie up the loose ends. It didn't matter that she was just a kid. Officer Cho also watched with mild interest, like he was happy to get back at her for stealing his badge. They must've figured out why she did it. She turned back to the doors and wanted to cry. She was positive Logan couldn't get to her in time. She wasn't even sure what he could do with his spontaneous knives. But she somehow knew that he could help.

Riffa took a breath and pushed open the door. She stood on the stone steps and watched the black car warily. She'd bought Logan maybe ten minutes. Was it enough? She had no idea where he even was. He could be hours away for all she knew. She walked down the sidewalk, turning to her right. All she could do was go back to the foster home. She closed her eyes and shuddered when she heard the black car pull out and turn around. It was coming for her. So she ran.

She kicked off the heels she'd been wearing and just bolted with all her might. The car picked up speed. She screamed and kept running, turning the first corner she came to.

'I don't want to die. Not yet. Please, I don't want to die.'

The car sped in front of her and cut her off at a driveway. She skidded to a stop and turned to run the opposite direction, but the thugs inside were on her in a flash. One gripped her around her torso and clamped a hand over her mouth to extinguish a scream. The other grabbed her feet. They carried her kicking and squirming body to the car. But suddenly a thundering sound echoed into the night air. A bright headlight illuminated the struggle and blinded the men from identifying the driver. The motorcycle screeched to a stop and the man on the bike jumped off in a fury. The men paused in their kidnapping attempt. The newcomer stood before his bike, arms outstretched on either side of him. In a flash, gleaming blades, three on each hand, shot out, glinting against the headlight. The men dropped Riffa and scrambled to get into the car. The newcomer ran at them, managing to gouge the trunk lid before they peeled away from the clawed attacker.

Riffa looked up at her rescuer, her chest heaving from exertion and terror. But she didn't need to ask who it was. She knew it was Logan.

Once he saw that the thugs weren't going to try anything else, he hurried to Riffa, who still sat numbly on the cold concrete. He retracted his blades and kneeled down beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking her over for injuries. Riffa just stared up at him, in shock. He looked genuinely concerned for her welfare. Before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to sob.

"It's okay. You're safe now. You'll be fine," he soothed, patting her back. He helped her up and Riffa was able to collect herself.

"How'd you get here so quick?" she asked through errant sobs.

"We have a jet."

"We?"

"The X-men."

Riffa knew the name. It was the vigilante group of mutants who saved people from the evils of the world. And now she was standing with a member of that ultra powerful and mysterious group.

"You brought your motorcycle on a jet?" she asked, letting out a laugh and wiping her eyes.

"And I launched out of the jet before it had even landed."

"Wow. Sounds crazy."

"Come on. We need to meet the rest of the team. Then we can go save your friends." He walked over to his bike and got on. He handed Riffa a helmet. She got on behind him.

"They're not really my friends. But they don't deserve to die. And they've got two grade-schoolers. I can't let anything happen to them."

They sped down the street in an increasingly loud rumble. Riffa mind spun in anticipation, she was about to meet the X-men.

A couple of blocks down, in an empty school athletic field, sat the cloaked Blackbird, the speedy jet of the X-men. The walkway opened at Logan's approach and he rode his bike into the airship. Riffa hopped off and looked at the gang of rescuers. They were an interesting bunch.

"Everyone, this is Riffa. She needs our help," Logan said getting to the matter right away.

A man with a visor covering his eyes stepped forward and extended his hand. "Hi, my name is Scott, also known as Cyclops. This is Storm," he gestured over to a woman with white hair and chocolate skin. "And Nightcrawler," he nodded over to a midnight blue man with a tail who was currently perched atop a chair. Nightcrawler waved at her with a three digit hand, and a kind smile. "We're on night shift this week," Cyclops explained.

Riffa was completely overwhelmed by the past three hours and now a group of strangers willing to help another group of strangers made her feel a surge of gratitude that brought tears to her eyes. She smiled to hide the tears and said hello to the group.

"Where do you think these thugs are?" Logan asked. "If we need to we can get the Professor's help."

"I have an idea where they are. I just hope we can get there in time." She then spoke to the group as a whole. "I don't feel comfortable involving you all in this. Are you sure you want to help? These people have guns and a murderous desire added to it."

"It's not the first time any of us have faced guns, or worse," Storm said with a wry smile. "We're happy to help."

Riffa took a breath and let it out. "Okay. Then let's get over there." Riffa was sure that they were being held at the warehouse they were meant to raid. She couldn't explain why, but it made the most sense given the amount of captives and the timing involved. And she ended up being completely right.

As the X-men plus one made their way to the warehouse, the gang sat inside with their captives, gladly torturing the people who wanted to topple their empire.

Thomas was placed in a cage that had been fitted with nozzles that sent down liquid nitrogen to coat the boy. He lay curled up, his powers keeping him from freezing to death. But he had no extra energy to melt the bars and escape.

Gina and Henry were in a bird cage, the bars tight enough to keep even her hummingbird form from escaping. Henry could also do nothing, his mimic abilities useless for the situation, unless the cage happened to have fingerprint or retina recognition. But all it had was a heavy lock. The other boy who'd been with Thomas and Marco was already disposed of in the river down the street.

Finally, Gerrin sat secured to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. Antonio stood behind him and Roberto, the leader, sat on a table next to him, his right foot on the table top and his left dangling off the side. He gazed with relish at his captive's agony. They had roughed him up quite a bit, in addition to his bullet wound in his thigh.

"I still can't believe you little..._whelp_ tried to topple my empire, _and_ rat out my cops. The nerve!" his eyes flashed dangerously but his toothy smiled held steady. "I do hope you understand that you and your friends are dying tonight. There is no way I'm letting this slide."

Gerrin looked at him through a swollen eye with contempt. "Let the...kids _go_," he grunted. Normally he'd be able to get out of a situation like this, but they kept him in so much pain that he couldn't focus enough to use his power of personal gravity. If only he could float away from them...but then where would he go? Roberto chuckled and shook his head.

"Nope. Their deaths are on your hands. You dragged them into this."

Gerrin hung his head. It seemed hopeless. But then he saw the leader unbuttoning his white dress shirt. Gerrin watched him warily.

"I do hope you're not gathering your strength to try and escape. I still have so much more to do to you." He let the shirt hang open. Gerrin watched with horror as dark tendrils rose from behind him, having been hiding on his back the entire time. He had no idea the man was a mutant. There had to be at least ten of them. The man watched his shocked face with apparent glee. "Yeah, I'm a mutant just like you. I can do some fun things with these."

A tendril shot out and dug into the bullet wound on Gerrin's thigh. He howled in pain as the tendril dug around the hole.

"Let's see if we can find that bullet. Ah! Here it is." He pulled the tendril out with a jerk. Gerrin sat there shuddering, his breathing ragged. The bullet dropped to the ground with a metallic clink. "Now that that's out of the way."

The tendril returned, rifling around his leg like a massive worm. It dug into the wound, pushing the hole further down. Gerrin kept screaming in agony, pleading for him to stop. He found what he was looking for and wrapped around Gerrin's femur.

"You don't even know the extent of it yet," Roberto hissed snapping the bone like a twig. Gerrin finally passed out. Gina and Henry sat curled up in the cage sobbing from what they were seeing and hearing.

But at the same time outside, Riffa was putting their plan into motion. She found only one guard outside the door standing watch. She snuck up to him, a heavy wrench in her hand just in case. He heard her too late. He turned, gun at the ready, but instantly collapsed as Nightcrawler appeared above him and brought the man to the ground.

"Take a nap," he growled. Riffa tossed his gun away and high fived, er, high three-ed Nightcrawler's hand for their stellar teamwork. Now phase two. She opened the door the thug had been guarding and walked right into the lion's den. What she saw almost made her lose her nerve.

Standing at the door she yelled a sharp, "Hey!"

Roberto and Antonio looked over at her in surprise. Clearly they didn't anticipate a rescue.

"Well, if it isn't the asian girl's friend. I thought we picked you up. Where are my men?" he looked past her for anyone else entering.

"They didn't get me."

"And so you delivered yourself to me. How kind. Antonio, looks like you get another opportunity with her."

"No. I'm here to rescue my friends!" she said firmly, gripping the wrench tighter. She glanced over at Thomas. He was whimpering and shivering in the short cage. Her heart went out to him. And she was relieved to see Gina and Henry untouched. But, as for Gerrin, she'd never seen him look worse.

"Oh really?" Roberto's eyes flashed in barely bridled rage at her challenge. His expression then darkened. "That will prove to be a _grave_ mistake."

Riffa fought the urge to flee when she saw tendrils come out from his person and lash toward her. One wrapped around her neck, dragging her closer and raising her in the air. Riffa grabbed on with her normal hand and struggled to breath. Her legs kicked out uselessly.

"I was going to kill him first," Roberto referred to Gerrin with a nod of his head, "but I think I'll start with you, as a warm up."

Riffa glared down at him. "Did you know I'm a mutant?" she struggled to say.

"Of course. I knew most of your rebellious band were," he shrugged as if it didn't matter. But it sure did.

"Then you should've really learned what I can do before you grabbed me," she grinned. Roberto's malevolent expression dropped into a dawning one. Riffa's eyes sparked into their magenta color and her energy hand formed. She grabbed the tendril and Roberto froze, his mouth open in a yell stopped short.

"What the-" Antonio began, stepping back in surprise. "You little-" was all he got out before a blue man appeared on the table. He looked over at the newcomer. Nightcrawler waved hello then kicked the man unconscious in one swipe. The guards in room caught on to what was happening and charged toward them. But suddenly Cyclops, Logan, and Storm appeared.

Cyclops shot one gun away from its bearer. The man looked at his now empty hand with a shocked expression. Logan punched another man with a sharp uppercut. He dropped to the ground in a heap. Storm worked to free Thomas and the kids. Literally blowing one man away when he ran to intercept her. He crashed into a crate and didn't move.

"Would one of you mind cutting me free? He's still strangling me even though he's frozen," Riffa called out in a squeak. Logan deftly sliced the tendril. Riffa dropped to the ground. She pulled the tendril off from around her neck. But this also freed her hold over the man. He instantly came to, but took a few second to realize what was going on. His eyes blazed with fury, but then turned to fear when he saw who else was in the room. Apparently he knew of the X-men. His tendrils lashed out in an attempt to put his attackers off guard. At the same time he hopped off the table to flee.

Logan grabbed the tendrils that shot toward him. Cyclops followed suit. They both tugged, pulling the man back. He collapsed in an unglamorous fashion. Nightcrawler appeared on his chest and swung at his face knocking him out cold.

Riffa stood, taking deep breaths now that she wasn't being strangled. The bad guys were out cold. They were safe, for now. She stumbled up to Gerrin and examined his bonds. He was handcuffed to the chair.

"You mind?" she asked Cyclops. He easily sliced them open. Riffa squatted before Gerrin and shook his gently. "Gerrin, wake up. Hey, Gerrin. Gerrin."

His eyelids fluttered and a low groan emitted from his cracked and bleeding lips. He opened his eyes and looked up. Riffa's face came into focus. She smiled at him. "Riffa? What are you doing here?"

"I'm rescuing you, dummy."

"We need to call an ambulance," Cyclops said, glancing down at the battered young man.

"I don't think we can. There are dirty cops at the precinct, remember? They'll catch wind of the ambulance coming here and show up as well. I don't know what they'll try."

"Then we'll take them." Cyclops reached down to pick up Gerrin. Riffa looked over to see Storm blowing a warm current on Thomas in an attempt to heat him up enough for his powers to work.

"Don't heat up too quick," she warned him. "You might have frostbite."

Riffa saw the two kids huddled nearby, unsure what to do about their frozen friend. She walked up to them and scooped them both into a tight hug. They hugged her back, crying once again. In a few more moments, Thomas was warm enough to walk with the assistance of Storm and Nightcrawler. The group made their way to the nearby jet. Storm piloted them to, not the nearest hospital, but the School. Less questions that way.

After several hours of surgery and patching, Gerrin and Thomas were on the mend. They lay in the underground clinic asleep. Riffa glanced back at them from the doorway, having been given permission to visit them once they were stable. She left, satisfied they were in safe hands. In the hallway, a bald man in a wheelchair approached.

"I hear your friends are going to be okay," he said softly.

"Yes. I'm so relieved," Riffa said, rubbing her right arm.

"My name is Charles Xavier," he said in introduction.

"Oh! You're the one the school is named after," Riffa remembered.

"Correct. I helped found this school. And your name is Riffa Hallesh."

"Yes. How did you know? I didn't give anyone my full name." She gave him a questioning look, her brows knitted together.

"I've been watching you and your foster home for some time. Come." He turned around and lead the way down the hall. Riffa followed and soon found herself in a large, spherical room with screens lining the walls. The professor put on a helmet attached to a machine and soon the screens lit up with images. She watched with wonder as he honed in on her foster home. He went inside and found Kerri passed out on the couch, an empty bottle below her drooping hand. Riffa frowned at the familiar sight.

"I keep an eye on all mutants. If one seems like they could use our help, we reach out to offer our services. You can understand how a home of orphan mutants would pique our interest. We had to make sure you were being cared after. And that was not the case."

"No. I can't say we ever were. I've done so many horrible things to stay alive."

"You don't have to go back to that life, Riffa. If you want to turn your life around, we will help you. Same goes for your friends," he smiled at her fondly. "You can gain an education and learn how to control your beautiful gift."

She'd never heard her mutation described quite that way before. She gazed down at her hand and stump. Was there more of a future available to her than she ever dreamed there could be? Was this a second chance?

"I want to stay," she decided. "I can't go back. I just can't."

"Then welcome to the school for the gifted. I'll get your paperwork in order. But you will have to go back one more time, for your things."

Riffa nodded. She glanced over at the pitiful image one last time. 'I can't wait to never see you again,' she thought as she looked at her slumbering guardian. The professor then turned the machine off and the two of them left the room. It was the start of a grand, new future for Riffa. And she felt something for the first time in her life - hope.


End file.
